


Epiphany

by fragilelittleteacup



Category: True Detective
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Established Relationship, M/M, Romance, get well soon~~~, i am not very lucid so idek how my writing is but pls accept my humble gesture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 19:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9285635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilelittleteacup/pseuds/fragilelittleteacup
Summary: domestic sappiness~~~~





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackeyedblonde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackeyedblonde/gifts).



> for Hannah; I'm doped up on pain meds, so I don't know how good this is, but I hope it distracts you from your awful headaches~~~ feel better soon (◡‿◡✿)~

It was a Thursday when it happened.

Marty looked up from his newspaper, over at where Rust was slowly moving around the kitchen, preparing their breakfast. Something slid into place. A feeling, warm and precious, bloomed in Marty's stomach, and he suddenly found himself wondering how they’d gotten here. How Rust was standing with a spatula in his hand, slowly moving eggs and bacon around in a pan, humming a quiet song Marty couldn’t identify. His hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and his face was slack with a relaxed kind of concentration as he cooked. He was wearing Marty’s Led Zeppelin shirt, and it was a memory of a time long-gone, when they’d been nothing more than workmates and cautious friends.

The weight of everything that they’d been through, the complexity of the past they’d shared, was a discarded story. A forgotten reminder. Somewhere along the line, when Rust had pulled Marty in for their first kiss and Marty hadn’t pushed him away, they’d realised they didn’t need pain to rule their lives.

Rust had folded himself into Marty’s life like he’d always meant to be there. Their laundry was no longer separate. Rust slept in Marty’s bed, now, not on the couch. The gaps in the pantry were filled with the food Rust liked, and Marty no longer ate microwaved plastic alone on the couch. The bleakness of the ten years they’d spent apart… that didn’t belong to them anymore. That misery belonged to two strangers. Two men they no longer knew. Their lives had sped by with insane haste, hurting towards what they had assumed would be a violent and lonely death– instead, they had ended up here. They had stumbled into a haven of safety and adoration, into a happy ending they'd only ever thought other people deserved.

Marty looked up at Rust, and realised that  _this_ was his life. Realised, properly, how fucking beautiful this all was. 

Yeah, Rust was an old bastard, just like Marty. And yeah, they fought, like all couples do. But the morning light was gentle against Rust's fair greying hair, turning his blue eyes into glittering gold, and his waist slowly swayed to the tune of whatever song he was remembering. Marty realised, with a jolt, the enormity of what they shared, and recoiled at the possibility that Rust would ever leave, that he would ever lose this. He never wanted Rust to disappear from this fucking kitchen. He never wanted this to end.

He stood, walked over, and wrapped his arms around Rust. Pressed against him, inhaled the smell of nicotine and deodorant.

“Y’right there, Marty?”

Marty rested the side of his face against Rust’s neck. He closed his eyes.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “yeah, I am.”

 

 

 


End file.
